


A Magical Life

by abigail89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adults acting like adults, Children, Growing Old Together, M/M, Multi, post-canon AU, post-divorce relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twice a year, Harry, Ginny, Ron & Hermione get together to plan their children’s holiday from Hogwarts. This story takes place at Christmas 2020, a time of change in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Magical Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for...some long-ago holiday fest, I think. Maybe a Harry/Ron?
> 
> A huge thank to my beta WN. All remaining errors remain mine alone. The original prompter for this story asked: “What happens when the last child leaves for Hogwarts?” This is what happens.

*~*

 

"May I help you, sir?"

"Yes, reservation in the name of Potter," Harry says, wheeling around to confront the voice behind him. "Made it yesterday."

The young man, dressed from head to toe in black consults the iPad on his walnut wood stand. "Yes, I see it. Are the other members of your party far behind?"

"Shouldn't be. They all know the reservation time. But I am early."

"Would you like to have a drink at the bar? I'll ready the table for you." He walks away, walking the walk of someone confident he is master of his domain.

Harry wanders over to the bar and orders a beer. There's a cricket match on the telly above the bar, no sound. _What the hell's the point of watching cricket if not for the commentary?_ he thinks.

_Table._ The name is a little pretentious, not the type of place Harry’s used to. He likes and appreciates good food, but even for Muggle London _Table_ is chic and outré. The restaurant isn't busy at all, it being a little early for the dinner crowd on a Tuesday afternoon. Harry is surprised because the holiday season is in full swing. But it's been unseasonably cold, even for London, so perhaps people are staying in more. Usually the truly cold weather is reserved for January and February. James, now a 5th year at Hogwarts, had written home just today, telling them northern Scotland had seen two major snowstorms already with a third due to hit this evening. Harry wonders if that will slow the Hogwarts Express down any. True, magical means could be used to clear the tracks, but in places where the train crossed near Muggle stations and villages, it would be a little trickier. They may have to arrange to Apparate with their children if the snow proves too deep for the Express....

While he's been musing about snow and the train, he hasn't notice someone had joined him at the bar. "A penny for your thoughts," Hermione says with a twinkle in her eyes. She has a glass of wine in front of her. 

"Hi!" Harry greets her enthusiastically, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. She returns his affection equally. "Why didn't you punch me on the arm or something?"

"What? And bring you out of your reverie? I so rarely find you lost in thought, I was enjoying the refreshing novelty." Hermione's laugh is light.

Harry smiles. The rarity is seeing Hermione in a joking mood. Not that she's a sourpuss, but her position as Minister for Muggle Relations requires her to walk between their two worlds, sometimes with great trepidation and care. The last war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters did much to destroy trust with the Muggle government, even though the war had been largely contained to wizarding areas. But it had at times spilled over into Muggle territory, and even though it had been twenty years, there were still bridges to repair. This afternoon, though, she's practically glowing.

"You look great, Hermione," Harry says. "What's going on?" 

She took a sip of her wine. "I took the day off."

"No way! Hermione Granger took a day off? Willingly?"

"Yes," she says, giggling. "My mum was complaining she hadn't seen me in ages, so we decided to go shopping today. I think I spent two paycheques worth on Christmas gifts for everyone."

Harry groans. "I haven't even started."

Hermione lightly slaps his arm. "Why should this year be any different?"

"I guess I'll have to take a day off, too." Harry pulls out his mobile and checks his calendar. "Problem is, I have meetings every day from now until the 22nd. I reckon that'll be the day, then."

"How'd you get here so early?"

"Told my staff I had a meeting with you, naturally. On some subject of import with the Muggle authorities."

"Harry Potter! Don't you ever use me as an excuse again."

"Got me here, didn't it?" He leans back in his chair and takes a long draw from his beer.

"I suppose. And I'm awfully glad you did. I haven't seen you for ages and we work just two floors apart!"

Harry takes and squeezes her hand. "It may as well be two continents apart. We never get to see each other, even now that Hugo is finally at Hogwarts."

The young maître d’ appears at his side. "Your table is ready, sir."

"Great." Harry hops off the tall bar chair and helps Hermione off of hers. "Say, where're all your packages and stuff?"

"Mum took it home with her. Most of it's for the kids anyway, so it'll be well protected from seeking eyes."

"I just hide my gifts in my office."

"Harry," she says as they reach a table set with chic black and white napkins and china, "you never buy your gifts early enough to have to hide them."

"You'd be surprised how busy my three get when they arrive home. It's like they become gold-seeking dragons as soon as they get off the train. And they're relentless." Harry takes a seat across from Hermione as the young man seats her. "I actually caught Al going through my desk one year." He looks at the young man who is standing by, expectantly. "Thank you. We'll be ready to order once everyone is here."

"Of course, sir."

"Harry, how did you get a reservation at this place? It's quite exclusive." 

"It's not that exclusive, is it? I helped the owner out of a jam a month ago with an investigation that involved some magical mushrooms that found their way into his inventory. Seems there was a wizard working for his supplier who thought it would be funny to charm some mushrooms so they would multiply while they were being cooked."

"Oh, that's right! I met with Jason--I think that's who the owner is--and he was very nice. Mentioned he'd worked with a 'quite competent law enforcement officer' from our side. Right before I Obliviated him."

"Good thing I received that voucher from him then," Harry says. "Else, we'd be at the Leaky Cauldron for our semi-annual what-the-hell-are-we-doing-for-Christmas-planning dinner." Harry picks up the drink menu and scans the selections. "You ready for another glass of wine?"

"Oh, go on," Hermione says. "Maybe I'll just get a bottle. Ginny likes this wine as well."

"Excellent."

Before Harry can find the waiter to place the order, Ginny comes into the restaurant with a flurry of bags and red hair and a sparkling blue cloak. The maître d’ speaks to her, obviously commenting on her cloak and takes it from her. He tries to take the bags, but she demures and then makes her way towards them. "Darlings!" she cries.

Harry and Hermione look at each other and laugh. "Just got back from Italy?" Hermione asks as Ginny reaches them and air-kisses her on both cheeks.

"I did, and it was marvelous. Covered three Quidditch matches and then shopped for two days."

Harry groans. "Hope you left me a few Galleons to pay the bills with."

"Oh, stop it. I have my own money, thank you. I got a great deal of Christmas gift buying done." Ginny gives Harry a hug and a kiss. She pulls back and places her hand on his cheek. "You look tired."

"I am tired, but at least I didn't just shop my way across the continent."

"I found some great bargains in Rome's wizarding community. Much better than Diagon Alley this time of year," Ginny says, as she seats herself next to Hermione. "Oh, I like this jacket on you, Hermione. Where'd you find it?"

As Ginny and Hermione catch up on the latest fashion and Ginny's assignment for the Daily Prophet, Harry finally catches the eye of their waiter, another sallow youth dressed in black. This one has black hair to match. "Yes, we'd like two bottles of the house red and two Stellas, please."

The young man nods and makes a note on his pad. "When would you like to order, sir?"

"We're expecting one more, and I expect he'll be here--oh, um, well. . . ." Harry stops and acknowledges the man at the door with a wave. "It looks like there will be five of us. Could you set us another place? Thanks. And two wine glasses, please."

The young man scuttles off. 

Ginny looks around. "Oh, look. Here comes François now."

François Kissining arrives at their table wearing a natty black wool coat and a gold scarf. Kissining is one of Belgium's top Chasers and plays for the National Team. "Greetings, my friends," he says in slightly accented English. "It is a great pleasure to see you all again."

"François! This is an unexpected surprise!" Hermione says as he gives her kisses to her cheeks. "Gin, you didn't mention François was coming!"

"Well, why wouldn't my husband come to dinner with me?" Ginny says as she receives full attention from him for a few moments. "Is Isabella with my parents?" she says with a purr as she runs her hand over his chest.

"She is as we speak being spoiled rotten by her grandmama and auntie Angelina," François says. He unbuttons his coat and slides it onto the back of the chair. "You'd think they'd never seen a six-month-old baby the way they coo and make a fuss over her."

"Well, it's been a while since any of us have had a baby," Hermione says. "Molly does love babies."

"Who doesn't?" Harry replies, rising from his seat. He holds out his hand. "Hello, François."

"Harry. It is good to see you." François gives his hand a firm shake. "It has been too long since we have been flying together."

"It has indeed. We'll have to set something up in the spring."

"Perhaps an informal Quidditch game with my fellows. You always give them a good workout. Pity you never pursued a career after school."

François always says that. He's a nice guy, a good guy. Ginny met him years ago as a young Quidditch player herself. She had toured with England's second-tier World Cup team, meeting with players from all over the world and had trained with the teams from Belgium and Sweden. At that time, she'd only had eyes for Harry, but she'd always remembered François, with his blond hair and muscular build and impeccable manners. He'd been at Beauxbatons for school and was a friend of her sister-in-law, Fleur Delacour. When Harry and Ginny had divorced, quietly and without drama, François had sought her out, courted her, and married her. And Harry had been pleased. Ginny was happy, well loved and treated like royalty. Francois gave her the life of an international Quidditch star: travels, a second home in Brussels, freedom to pursue her journalism career as a freelancer. And, now a beautiful baby girl. Not that Ginny didn't appreciate or love her children with Harry any less, but a baby with her new husband had been a sweet cementing of their marriage. 

Harry muses on the slow decline of their marriage. It had, he'd thought initially, been caused by too much work, not enough time spent with his vivacious wife. She had been the one with the Quidditch career, while he'd dedicated his life to eradicating the last of Voldemort's followers and preventing the rise of any other threat to the wizarding world. Despite their initial enthusiasm for each other, it had waned as the years rolled on, until their relationship had become rote and perfunctory. No one had been truly at fault; they'd simply found how to live their lives without the other. Harry, though, a few years later, had come to an inevitable conclusion: he'd married the wrong Weasley. 

He should've known. He should've paid attention in his 4th year, when Ron had been deemed the 'one he'd miss the most' during the Second Task in the Triwizard Tournament. He should've known when Ron returned to them after Christmas during the hunt for the Horcruxes. And he should've know when Ron had disappeared just after he and Ginny married. Ron had gone to the wedding, got stinking pissed and then disappeared for two weeks. Hermione had been frantic, but Harry knew something had been up; he just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

As his mind circles around that thought, Ron arrives, his hair windblown ( _Sexy!_ ) and his face glowing from the cold. "Hey!" Ron calls out as he strides to their table. Harry can't help but feel his stomach give that little flip it does whenever Ron is around.

"Ron!" Ginny jumps up and gives her brother the European treatment. "Goodness, you're a mess."

"Yeah, well, I Apparated into an alley and the wind was really blowing hard there. That, and I was flying with my 5th years this morning." Ron nods. "Hello, Hermione."

Hermione gives him a smile. "Hi, Ron. Did you see our children?"

"Yep. They're all alive, mostly in good health and complaining about exams." He sits next to Harry. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hey to you," Harry says, his stomach flipping just a little again. 

Ron rubs his hands together and blows on them as he looks around at the decorations and the decor of the restaurant. "This is a nice place. Food any good?"

"Yes, it is. Have a look at the menu. Our waiter is bringing you a beer."

Ron gives him a fond smile. "Ta, mate. Though, I think I need some tea or something to warm up. I flew part of the way here."

Hermione looks at him, exasperated. "What on earth prompted you to do that, Ron? It's well below freezing."

Ron shrugged. "The clouds were amazing, you know, they were that grey-white colour and quite fluffy and heavy with snow. Oh, the Ministry is going to charm the rails for the Express so they don't ice up."

"Where'd you hear that?" Harry asks. "I haven't seen that plan."

"McGonagall briefed us on it this morning. I’ve cancelled flying until the end of the term. Too cold and too much bad weather coming in before the holiday. The Highlands are gonna get hammered tonight, expecting a lot of snow to pile up. Hermione, aren’t plans involving the Hogwarts Express under your department?"

"It is, but I didn't go to work this morning. That was one of the plans we'd been discussing. I suppose the Minister for Magic made the call." Hermione turns back to continue speaking with Ginny and François.

"Wait, did she say she didn't go to work today?" Ron looks gobsmacked. "I think hell just froze over. Well done, Hermione." Ron raises his beer glass in salute.

"Thanks, Ron. I had a wonderful time shopping with my mum," she says, smiling.

Harry leans back in his chair as his best friends chat. Ginny and he get along well; François is a good man and Isabella is a joy. Ron and Hermione hardly bicker any more. The kids--the kids are all doing great. They like François and he likes them. _Yeah, it's all good. Just wonder when the other shoe will drop._

But the other shoe, that moment of utter disaster and ruin, has not appeared, and as the days and months go by, life seems to just get better.

"Hey, you still with us, mate?" Ron is talking to him.

Harry lifts his eyes up from his beer, and gives him a smile. "Yes, I am. What I'd miss?"

"Nothing, but we do need to order. Our creepy waiter boy is getting right cheeky." Ron tilts his head towards the gothic waiter who is standing nearby, staring at them as he rocks up and down on his feet.

"Know what you want then?" Harry asks.

After several minutes of questions and clarifications and decisions, their order is placed, the waiter leaves them in peace, and everyone around the table is quiet.

"Okay, so what's the schedule?" Hermione asks, pulling her iPad from her tiny bag. It's the signal for everyone else to pull out their magically-shielded electronic devices and get down to the business of planning the holiday schedule for their blended and extended families. "Who wants to open the negotiations?"

*~*

After dinner and the bill has been settled (and a close four-way struggle to pick up the cheque, won this time by François, claiming the right since he hadn’t been at the last holiday planning dinner. “These are my children, too, Harry,” he’d said. “Please allow me this privilege.” And how could Harry argue with that?), they gathered outside the restaurant in the dark and cold to say their farewells.

"This was a good idea, Harry,” Ginny says. “Great food!”

“Glad you liked it. ” Harry tucks Ginny’s assessment away for Ginny and François’s upcoming anniversary. “And thank François again for paying. See you at Kings Cross in a week.”

Ginny gives him, then Ron air-kisses and hugs. "Mum will expect to see you sometime this weekend, you know," she says, straightening Ron’s collar.

"All right. Now that I'm not teaching for the rest of the week, I'll have time," Ron says, pulling his coat closer around his body and batting away her hands. "If I haven't said it lately, I like your new husband. He's all right, in a Belgium-y sort of way." He grins.

"Well, it's good to hear again, and thanks," Ginny says, hugging him. 

François comes to take Ginny's arm; he’s magically shrunk all of Ginny’s packages into one small bag. "See you later, Ron."

"Yeah, see you."

She waves as they walk away, arm in arm. They have a flat in the city and like to take the Tube when they have the time. Ginny’s long hair whips out behind her.

“Bye, Harry!" Hermione gives him a hug. Her face is shining from a generous amount of wine and happy time. "I’m going to spend the night at my parents’ house and maybe get a start on wrapping gifts. Let’s meet tomorrow to talk about details for the Express plan. I’m free for lunch if you don’t mind working through it."

“Sound perfect, because I think that’s all the free time I’ll have,” Harry says. “Have a good night.” She walks into the alley next to the restaurant and then Harry hears a slight 'pop' sound as she Apparates.

Harry and Ron look at each other, then look around. "We should get out of here, but. . .I don't think I can wait," Ron says. He grabs Harry's hand and jerks him into the dark alleyway. He shoves Harry up against the cold brick wall. "Been wanting to do this all night, mate." And he kisses Harry ferociously.

_Now this is a kiss!_ Harry thinks. He worms his hands up under Ron's jumper and shirts, finding hot, soft skin. Ron squeaks at the touch of Harry's cold hands. But he doesn't break the kiss; he just presses into Harry harder as Harry's lips part, and he plunges in. His tongue seeks out all the ridges and crevices of Harry's teeth and mouth, then slows to a luscious roll. Harry moans at the onslaught, and hikes his leg up to encircle Ron's thighs, bringing their already tented and hardened groins together. It's wicked and outrageous, kissing like this in a semi-public place, but he's so turned on he can hardly be moved to care. He's wanted Ron like this all evening and he's not going to deny himself the pleasure.

Ron slowly, reluctantly pulls back, dives back into Harry's mouth, but then pulls back, his lips lingering. "I will," he says, "never get tired of doing that with you." He presses his forehead to Harry's. "Love you, mate."

"Love you, too, mate," Harry says.

"It's been a helluva year, what with quitting the Aurors to teach at Hogwarts, and my dad passing on, and Hugo getting his letter," Ron says, hugging Harry closer. "And then telling Hermione I was in love with you. Merlin, I never expected her to be so _calm_ about that."

"Hermione told me she's always known you were in love with me. And me with you. For years and years." Harry laughs.

Ron hugs him tighter. "I wonder why the hell she never said anything."

"You know what she told me? She said we had to figure it out for ourselves. Even if it meant not being together because we'd never believe it had been her who told us."

Ron snorts. "She's got that right. I would’ve written it off as Meddling!Hermione. But fuck, she’s always right."

"She is, and god, we are so fucking clueless," Harry says, dropping his head to Ron's shoulder, shaking with laughter. Ron joins him and for a moment, they laugh and laugh, clutching at each other.

"I’m cold. Let's get the hell out of here and go to our nice warm house," Ron says. "Together."

Harry pulls his wand out of his jacket. "Got it." He Apparates them from the alley to the vestibule of their house at Godric's Hollow. "Better?"

"Much."

They're greeted by their big, friendly black Labrador retriever, Sweetie, and let her out into the yard. Harry picks up the Owls from the box while Ron hangs their coats in the hall closet. "Anything important?" Ron asks, enfolding Harry in his arms again.

Harry looks through the correspondence. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." He turns and kisses Ron. "I sort of liked where we were going with that kiss in the alley. Think we can continue it somewhere warmer? More comfortable?"

Ron kisses him again. "Need to get all that in now before the kids come spend five days with us. Merlin, Harry, we have them for five days, including the baby!"

"It'll be fun," Harry says, pulling him into the lounge. He pulls out his wand and casts _Incendio_ onto the logs in the fireplace. A fire quickly catches and burns brightly. "And you know your mum won't want to give up Isabella, so I’m pretty sure we won't have her. I think we should take the kids"--he pauses to kiss Ron again--"skiing in Andorra. Just for a few days. There's that inn we really like there."

Ron pushes Harry onto the sofa in front of the fire as he says, "Don't wanna talk about the kids or skiing or anything that doesn't involve you and me being naked."

Harry shivers. "No more talking."

"That's the idea.”

Ron banishes their clothes with a quick flick of his wand, and falls on Harry, crushing his lips to Harry’s. He grinds his cock into Harry’s belly, moaning as he does. Harry opens his legs to Ron, welcoming him to come closer, to use his body for their pleasure. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, to have Ron making love to and with him. Ron slows his thrusting, deepens the kiss, and time slows around them.

“Harry,” Ron breathes as he breaks the kiss to take his wand and cast a lubrication spell, generating enough of the slippery potion to ease their joined cocks through his large, warm hand. Harry shudders as Ron tightens his grip on him, on them both. He thrusts up into Ron’s hand, encouraging him to move, to bring them both to sweet release. . . .

Harry reaches between them to find Ron’s nipples, to pinch them, raising them to sensitive nubs. Ron moans and bends his head to take Harry’s nipple in his mouth; he bites down hard on it, then instantly soothes it with his wet tongue and lips. Harry hisses from the sharp pain and warm balm Ron provides; but it sends frisson of passion through him, and his toes curl in response. “Ron,” Harry says, gasping. “Now, gotta come now.”

Ron’s hand speeds up and he worries the other nipple with his teeth, while Harry pinches and rubs both of Ron’s. Ron groans, and squeezes the sensitized heads of their cocks, and as he does he bites down viciously. Harry cries out, stuttering as he climaxes; warm, viscous come shoots between them, and it tips Ron to come as well.

Ron milks them gently, squeezing and completing their shared orgasms. Harry can feel Ron’s arms shaking from holding himself above Harry’s body; Harry nudges him, encouraging his lover to fall to his side. Ron does so with a huge sigh of relief. “Merlin, I’ll never get tired of that, too.”

“Indeed,” Harry says. “But it is kind of messy.”

“I’ll clean us up once I can move again,” Ron says, breathless. “But it’s not going to be for a while yet.”

Harry laughs. “I thought you’d be in better shape with all the flying you’ve been doing. You’re going to have to join me on my morning run.”

“No thanks, too cold,” Ron says. “I love everything about you, but running in the cold? Mental, that is, mate.”

Harry Summons blankets from the nearby sofa and then land on the both of them. “Then I reckon we’ll just stay here for a while, shall we?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Harry Summons logs to the fire. “ _Nox!_ ” And the lights around the house go dark. He snuggles closer to Ron and sleep overcomes him.

When Ron’s snores start up, Sweetie, who had been staying in the kitchen, ambles into the lounge and curls up beside Harry. His hand finds her and rubs her ears. Sighing, she relaxes into Harry’s side and falls fast asleep.

*~*

“Dad! Mum!”

Harry turns quickly to find his daughter, his sweet Lily, running towards him, waving. “Lily!” he shouts. “Al!”

Albus Severus is several paces behind his sister. Harry takes Lily in his arms, as Ginny hugs Al. “Merlin, you’ve grown!” he says, surprised. “You’ve grown a good half metre!”

“Not that much, Dad,” Lily says. “I’m happy to see you.”

“Oh, not as happy as I am to see you.”

He releases her to her mother and then gives Al a quick guy hug, brief with lots of back slapping. “Good to see you, son. You’ve grown taller, too.”

“I have,” he says. “I had to charm my jeans to fit my longer legs.” Al looks down at his Muggle clothes. “And my robes are all too short.”

“Great,” Harry groans. “More shopping. I think I’ll let your mum take care of that particular duty.”

The platform is jammed with wizards, large and small, baggage, and owls. The noise grows as parents greet children and the train lets off steam in the enclosed space. The Ministry has decorated the small station with bright fairy lights, so the usually dim cavern is alive with colour and happy sounds of reunions. 

“Dad!” “Uncle Harry!”

James and Rose join them as well. “Where’re your parents, Rose?” Ginny asks. “I think I’ve lost them in the crowd.”

“They’re over near the luggage,” Rose says. “They have Hugo.”

“So that means we have everyone, then?” Harry counts. “Yep, we have four, and Hugo makes five.

“Did you bring a car, Dad?” Al asks. Al has a love for Muggle forms of transportation. 

“I did, indeed,” Harry says. “A van that will fit all of us. Oh, look. Here they come.”

“Ready to go?” Ron asks, carrying Hugo and Rose’s large duffel bags. “What did you guys bring home? You didn’t smuggle a cauldron home again, did you, Rose?”

Rose giggles. “No, but there are some big books from the library that Mum wanted.”

Ron turns to Hermione. “Here. You carry them, then.” He grins, but doesn’t make a move to hand her the bags.

“I haven’t had a free moment to get to Hogwarts in weeks. But I did want to do some research on a charm that--”

“Ok, we get it, Hermione,” Ginny says. “Are we ready to leave? François will join us later in the day for dinner.”

They leave the noisy station for an even more noisy Kings Cross station, packed with Muggles trying to hurry away. Harry has Shrunk the three bags he’s responsible for and puts them in his pocket. Outside, it’s started to snow, much to the delight of the kids and some of the Muggle children as well. 

“Merlin, you’d think they’d be well sick of this stuff by now,” Ron says, as he joins Harry in their walk to the parking area. 

“Did you ever get tired of the snow when you were their age?”

Ron grins. “Nah, reckon not. Snow has its own kind of magic, you know? Makes everything look like a fairy land.”

“It does.” Harry takes Ron’s hand, which is covered in a warm glove. “It is sort of magical.”

Enfolded in the excited happy chatter of his children and godchildren, walking hand in hand with his beloved, Harry thinks his life is, finally, and once and for all, complete. Sweet.

Magical.

*~*


End file.
